


Dragonrend

by Myrielle (orphan_account)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Myrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because there was a deeper, darker version of Dragonrend… Now Alduin must learn to live again, not as a devourer of worlds, but as a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios and I own nothing at all except for the OC and plot. There is no profit made at all, really._

_Summary: Because there was a deeper, darker version of Dragonrend… Now Alduin must learn to live again, not as a devourer of worlds, but as a man._

_Genre: Adventure/Humour_

**DRAGONREND**

Quietly, I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness of Sky Haven Temple. There was that curious thrumming, that silent chorus which only I could hear by virtue of the dragon’s blood that ran in my veins, blood that I had not known existed until Whiterun, until that stormy day when lightning carved up the sky along with cruel talons and a dragon fell by the combined might of arrows and swords. The killing blow was mine, more by accident than skill; had Irileth not been there, I might not have lived to hear the thunderous roar of the Greybeards, calling me by the name I was now known by. No longer Freyja the Nord, the only thing I could yet remember about my shrouded past, now I was just Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn.

A shudder ran through my frame and I pulled the blankets tightly around me, as though to ward off the memory of myself devouring a soul. Flesh and bone disintegrated to enchanted ash which rose to the sky rather than cleave to the earth and a fire came out of the dead beast, infusing itself with my spirit, wrapping me in hot flames that made me cry out in fear and ecstasy. At first I had been horrified, now I felt exhilarated, as though something inside had been awakened, a stirring that blossomed into a full blown battle cry each time I faced my winged counterparts. But for the body, we were the same beneath the skin.

As the maelstrom inside me brewed, so did the call in my ears. Frustrated, I sat up, threw off the covers and ran a hand over my blonde hair. Pale as the first ray of dawn, Brynjolf had remarked idly once while we were traipsing through the wilds of Skyrim, tracking down Mercer Frey. I had removed the Nightingale cowl in favour of some sunshine and breeze, which had led to his compliment. His on the other hand, stirred like fire in the wind. In spite of the years that separated us, and our destinies, there had always been a frisson of attraction but Brynjolf had always refused to act upon it, not even when I had tentatively tried discussing it.

Pursued by a vague feeling of humiliation, I jumped up, grabbed a thick sleeping robe I had lifted from the Honningbrew Meadery when that nasty piece of work known as Sabjorn still owned it. Briefly, I wondered what had happened to him by now but had long ago decided that someone like him who would send a woman alone and without prior warning to face an insane mage deserved to die for his callous disregard.

Slipping on my boots, I left the room, treading the cold stone floors silently. Esbern and Delphine were nowhere to be seen; the traps would keep us safe and the noise made by any being activated would wake any sleeping Blades. The thrumming hummed in my ears, louder as I passed the hallway. The stone fire stands still burned with low muted flames, empty plates and mead bottles littered one side and I knew Esbern had retired not long ago.

Light played over the frieze wall, shadows shrank and grew, and in their movement, the stone carvings came to life. Great wings moved back and forth, flickering and the low roar in my ears increased. The heat of dragon fire warmed my skin, metal sang and pierced scales, cries of despair and victory rose like twin howls and I did not know how but my feet moved, borne on a strange will and I found myself standing before the centerpiece, Alduin in a tangle of great leathery wings, his body writhing impotently in rage as he was brought low to the ground. A Shout that could bring down a Dragon, a god even. The thought was intoxicating and the fact that I felt that way made me afraid.

The stone never moved but vision clouded my eyes and I could not stop, could not prevent my hands from tracing the stone and my mouth moved but I could not understand all I spoke in the Dragon Tongue. There was a room, books littered every surface and strange writings in different languages were scrawled on paper and the walls. By now the song was so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations of the Temple. Either that or it was tearing me apart.

Feverishly, my palms scraped the jagged edges, curved around the smooth lines. They were chanting, experimenting with different Words of Power, adding on and taking apart. Stone trembled, fire and ice emerged from nothingness, time slowed and finally, for the first time an ancient dragon tumbled from the sky. But it did not stop. The room returned, darker now and there was only one person, a man wreathed in shadow whose face I could not see and whose voice whispered frantically in my ears. A Master of the Voice, a secret Shout not known to the others.

My hands drifted lower, seeking that which had been hidden, reaching for the man who stood beneath the falling dragon. Then my hands touched his face, my fingers brushed the mouth and I felt lips move. Light pierced my eyes as Words of Power sprang to life, emblazoned on the wall and they were brighter, more dreadful than any other Word.

I think I screamed as the Shout transcended my flesh and wrote itself in my mouth, on my soul.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cold stone pressed against my cheek; I was lying on the floor at the foot of the wall. My limbs would not obey the order to move and it was then I realized how bruised I felt, as though several Draugr deathlords had combined their Unrelenting Force Shouts and sent me through a mountainside.

“Why is this happening?” I whispered, thankful to find I could still speak. Learning the other Words of Power had never harmed me before. Summoning my strength, I focused on the refreshing chill of the stone, muttered the healing spell and relaxed as warmth suffused my battered body. It took several castings before I felt sufficiently strong enough to get up. On shaking legs, I made it to the table before sinking into a hard chair and grabbing the first opened bottle of mead I could see. Heedless of whoever’s mouth had preceded mine, I downed the remainder and did the same with the next two bottles I could lay my hands on.

The mead did little to ease the feeling that I had somehow been violated, entranced into performing something I had no knowledge about and no will over. Turning around, I glared at the now silent wall. Everything had gone back to the way it was before and the Words were now hidden. For a moment I wondered if it had been nothing more, just a trance. And then it came back, the foreign words which shaped my lips and tongue and found existence in the faint whisper it drew from them. The air seemed to shiver and the fires on the stands leapt violently in response. ‘Alright, not just a trance then,’ I thought. ‘But why me?’

 _…Last of the Dragonborn…_ Arngeir’s words resonated in the stillness. _There are no others, at least none that we can tell of…_

The last time Alduin had been brought down, there had been Three Masters of the Voice. But none of them Dragonborn. Perhaps whatever fate had dragged me back to Skyrim had a hand in this; perhaps it would be impossible for me to bring down the World Devourer by myself without additional aid. Something from the past had reached into the present and I was left to discover the repercussions.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Are you sure you wish to journey alone?”

Delphine looked sceptical as she watched me don my Nightingale armour. I could sense her disapproval as I pulled on the Ancient Cowl of the Assassins, my way of honouring an assassin who had seen me fit to wear his robes, and of acknowledging my link to the Dark Brotherhood. I was after all, their leader although I often left them to their own devices and I only listened to ‘Mother’ whenever I had need of coin. Some killings were necessary, but I did begrudge the fact that I was used to settle petty quarrels as well. Delphine had been horrified to discover my link to the Dark Brotherhood but realized there was more harm than good to be done if she forced me to sever ties with them.

“Yes,” I replied as I strapped my Nightingale Blade to my back and picking up my Daedric Sword, fastened it to my side. An Elven dagger hung at the other hip; I carried no shield. “You have no love of the Greybeards and I would not be so cruel as to take Esbern from all the Blade Lore he has found here.”

A smile that others would have termed gentle briefly touched Delphine’s face before it vanished. I suspected sometimes that this hard woman who had survived years of Thalmor persecution felt fondness for her fellow Blade because they were the only two left. “That is true. Besides, I need to train Onmund. He has the makings of a fine Blade.”

I used building up the Blades as an excuse to both of them. The truth was, I had fallen asleep at the table and somewhere between dreams and waking, an idea had been conceived in my head and I had no intention of letting it go until I had tried it. Delphine and Esbern would probably lock me up in the Temple if they knew what I was planning and the last thing I needed was to worry about the life of any follower I brought along. I could still feel the tears of guilt and sorrow as I placed the last stones over Jenassa’s burial mound. That would be the only time I brought someone with me when I was not even certain of besting my opponent.

“There may be others. When I find them, I will bring them to you. It’s time the Blades arose again.” Outside the Temple, Shadowmere waited. He whickered upon seeing me and not for the first time did I wonder how he had spent the night. Delphine followed a few steps behind, eyeing him warily, especially when he shook his head at her and chomped on the bit, revealing white teeth. Tying my knapsack to the saddle, I double-knotted it, tugged a few times to make sure it was secure, and swung myself up on Shadowmere. His coat was thick but it did not glisten as an ordinary horse’s would in the light. The only things that gleamed about Shadowmere were those unnatural eyes, red like coals. If I ever met the Headless Horseman that was rumoured to haunt the roads of Skyrim, chances were that his horse would run from mine.

Raising a hand in salute, I waited until Delphine returned the gesture before wheeling Shadowmere around and heading down the slope at a brisk trot. I hope she did not still see me as she originally had. “A mere slip of a girl,” she had exclaimed. “I could not believe it when rumours pointed to you being the Dragonborn.”

Training had put muscles on my lean frame but most opponents still took it for granted that I was no threat until the fight began in earnest. Most of them only saw a relatively tall, slim woman with blonde hair and ice blue eyes. Usually it was the fact that I was a woman that made most of them complacent, especially the thieves and brigands I encountered while travelling. By the time they learnt their lesson, they were on their way to the netherworld while I relieved them of their worldly goods.

When I was sure Delphine could no longer see me, I withdrew the crumpled map I had stuffed into my boot. “Freyja, Freyja, where will you go next?” I murmured almost subconsciously. It had always been a habit of mine, talking to myself. Sometimes, I could almost swear I could hear another voice in my head calling me by my name, a man’s voice. It could have been my father; I doubted I would ever know. I could not even remember how I had ended up on that prisoners’ wagon with Ulfric Stormcloak.

“X marks the spot indeed,” I crowed as my eyes settled on my next destination. Shadowmere neighed softly as I tugged on the left rein, indicating which path he should take. All around, the valley was still, save for the rushing waters that took along the bodies of the Forsworn I had slain the day before. The scent of rancid blood and bloated flesh tainted the air and I could smell it through the mask of the cowl. Though I could sympathise with the Forsworn, their savagery and pigheaded refusal to let me pass their camps unmolested had prevented me from doing so. Instead, I felt perverse satisfaction in plundering their sites and killing off whoever challenged me, which usually meant slaughter because the Forsworn would not give up.

I lifted up my eyes to the mountains of Karthspire. Somewhere on those mist-wrapped heights lay a dragon burial mound. I hoped it was yet unopened. There, I would await the Devourer of Worlds.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been two weeks now and while I was sure dragons were out there wreaking havoc in Skyrim, I was even more certain that Alduin would arrive. He had to.

A small cave nearby provided shelter from the driving rains and bitter cold as I watched the skies. Occasionally, a wild bear would amble up and once, I had been awakened to find Shadowmere locked in fierce combat with a sabre cat. These were easy enough to dispatch with a few quick blows but it was the sword which was a true marvel and I was once again glad that I had forged it. Flesh and bone knit back even as I stabbed the blade into the bodies of my enemies, draining their life force to heal myself. The Nightingale Blade had stronger enchantments but the metal was not as strong, nor did it make blood run the way the Daedric blade did.

Plucking at the scant grass around my boots, I watched as Shadowmere stood silently beneath a tree with few leaves, its gnarled branches like skeletal fingers raised to the sky. He never cropped grass, never drank, never slept but kept watch over me like a silent sentinel. No wonder Lucien Lachance had never forgotten him.

Then, it finally happened. I was burying the remains of the rabbit beneath sand and grit at the back of the cave when Shadowmere neighed furiously and thundered past the entrance. “Damnation and the Nine Divines,” I cursed as I grabbed my sword and ran out to see a great black dragon wheeling above the mountaintops and my horse, pawing defiantly at the sky in challenge.

Jumping over the stones and a small rocky outcrop that barred the way, I landed hard, cursed as I almost slipped and clawed my way back to balance as I charged onwards. I could not afford to engage two dragons in battle and live, not if one of them was Alduin.

High above he flew, jagged ebony on wings of fear, his voice a low mellifluous thrum of evil that shook the mound I stood on. “Alduin, World’s Bane!” I roared as I raised a hand to the sky. Fire erupted from flesh, flowed like a white red extension of my skin before it was thrust into the air, a bolt of destruction that he easily evaded. But now I had his attention.

“Dovakiin!” He turned my title into a venomous curse, a battle roar as he swooped low, so close the draft from his wings almost knocked me from my feet. A barrage of flames singed his belly; I was not going to let any opportunity slip by. He roared in fury, rather than rage and the mountains rang with it; I could hear rocks slide loose and fall into the valley below.

“You arrogant human fool!” And then a rush of heat seared the air around me and I threw up a greater ward wall just as a sea of flames surrounded me. From behind the blue glow of my protective spell, the heat singed and I could smell the earth around me burning. Beneath my feet, sand turned to glass. My arms ached, sweat poured down my brow and into my eyes, stinging them and obscuring my vision. I could feel the flames physically pressing in on me. How long was Alduin going to keep this up, I wondered and found myself praying to the Divines that this onslaught would end soon.

Just as my knees were about to buckle, the flames vanished, punctuated by an infuriated roar. “Not as weak as you imagined,” I taunted, hoping he would not hear the slight pant in my voice. “Come down from on high, Alduin who was vanquished, and let history repeat itself.”

The sentence had not yet left my mouth completely when he broke off in midflight and headed straight for me. I raised my blade in challenge, fire still gleaming from one hand as I waited. Behind me loomed Shadowmere, his presence more a support than actual help. At least he would die to live again, I thought, comforting myself, if it ever came to that.

He was not going to stop, I realized, my eyes snapping wide open at Alduin’s enraged headlong rush. He meant to crush me on the mound, along with the dragon bones beneath. It was now or never.

Air rushed into my lungs, filling my nostrils, every cell swelling with a simmering power that could never be fully comprehended. Dragon’s blood awoke and I could feel the change sweep over me. Everything became clearer, sharper, colours brighter, I could smell snow on the air above the smoke and fire, smell him as he bore down on me.

My spine curved as my body gathered itself, arched as I lunged forward, head thrown up and from my mouth the secret Shout ripped out, an inhuman roar, a dragon’s roar in Dragon Tongue that tore the sky in a blaze of blue as it met Alduin in the air. My strength followed, sucked out from my flesh by the force taken out of my being, greater and more draining than any other Shout previously experienced.

The edges of reality blackened and I fell to the ground, desperately clinging onto consciousness as above me, Alduin screamed so loudly that I feared for my life. Then Shadowmere was there, grasping my cloak between his teeth as he dragged me at a gallop from the burial mound onto the sickly green grass, saving my life as the great black dragon crashed down upon the spot where I had lain.

From a safe distance I watched, Shadowmere’s cool muzzle against my cheek as he nudged me. Alduin screamed again, writhing and thrashing on the ground, gleaming blue with the Shout that bound him, his tail tearing up the earth and scattering the long dead bones of the dragon he had been about to resurrect. Trees fell to his struggles, the rocks and stones were crushed into pebbles, and the repeated snapping of jaws, the gnashing of great teeth rent the air.

Commanding Shadowmere to lay down, I fumbled for my knapsack, dug out a large green bottle and downed the Stamina potion in one gulp. The icy cold sensation spread from my throat to the tips of my toes and scalp, reviving as it melted away the fatigue. Attempting to stand, I held on to Shadowmere’s withers and then flinched, burying my face in his flank against the sudden explosion of light. Only when he whickered did I look up.

Alduin was gone.

Dumbly, I stared at the scene. Had he died? Imploded into nothingness? Did gods not leave behind corpses? Grasping my sword, I summoned fire once again and approached, warily. The mound was a mass of churned up rubble and destruction. Here and there, white fragments of bones dotted the scene. Kicking them out of my way, I climbed to the top of the mound, hoping to witness Alduin’s fallen body crushed at the bottom.

The last thing I expected to see there lying on the brown dirt was the body of a man. A man who was as naked as the day he had been born. “What in the name of Mara…?” I muttered as I hurried down, boots digging into the earth as the fiery blaze left my hand and was replaced by the warm comforting glow of a healing spell. Since when had a traveller passed the battle scene without my knowledge? And why had he no clothes on?

Sheathing my blade, I knelt beside him and pressed two fingers to his neck. His pulse was shallow and rapid but most importantly, present. His smooth pale skin, Nord skin, was unblemished; there were no visible injuries I could find, not even when I turned him gently to examine his back. He was extremely tall, and the lean muscle on his large frame seemed to indicate a warrior’s life or a man who worked hard for his living. His palms though, were smooth, which was a puzzle. I would have taken him for a Nord, except for the shoulder length hair, black as ebony, that crowned his head. As I pressed a hand to his forehead, whispering the healing spell, his eyes fluttered open and that was when I noticed their unusual colour. The irises were pale golden-amber, and the pupils were blacker and more slanted than any I had ever seen, almost like a cat’s.

Then they narrowed and an expression that could only be called rage entered them. He hissed viciously and as I snatched my hand back, he attempted to bite me. “By Talos I am not trying to hurt you!” I exclaimed. “Be still else I will not give you my help.” An empty threat, a habit I had yet to break completely.

His brow furrowed in confusion but he twisted his head away as I attempted to place my hand on him again. Garbled sounds issued from his lips and I could see he was becoming more frustrated by the second. Then, he happened to glance down his body and froze. I assumed it was because he had no clothes.

Those amber eyes snapped back to mine and I had the strangest feeling I had seen them somewhere before. And then with great effort, he spat out something that chilled me to the bone.

“…Dovahkiin…”

I was right; I had seen them before.

Rolling away, I came up in a crouch, my sword out and singing in for the killing blow when I halted my arm in mid-strike.

Alduin, World’s Bane, Destroyer of Worlds, Devourer of Souls, had passed out.

“Come on Freyja, do it! Now!” Delphine and Esbern would have hacked him to pieces by now, conscious or not. The Jarls to whom I was Thane would have ordered me to do so.

The Daedric Blade whispered that it needed Dragon Blood once again.

Sword touched flesh, pressed hard enough to open the skin and out came the blood. It was red, as red as mine. He was both dragon and man. ‘Like me,’ came the thought, which I hastily brushed away. But more importantly, he was naked and helpless and if I struck him down now…

With a loud curse, I climbed back up the mound and whistled for Shadowmere to approach. I knew exactly what I was going to do to my worst enemy.

I was going to clothe him as best I could and find the nearest inn.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios and I own nothing at all except for the OC and plot. There is no profit made at all, really._

_Summary: Because there was a deeper, darker version of Dragonrend… Now Alduin must learn to live again, not as a devourer of worlds, but as a man._

_Genre: Adventure/Humour_

 

**DRAGONREND**

**II.**

   I had every intention of making good on my intentions. Unfortunately, Shadowmere—faithful, obedient and ever present Shadowmere—knew Alduin for what he was even in the form of a human and promptly refused to carry him.

  “Come back here!” I ordered imperiously, only for him to look down his nose at me as he danced out of reach. For a moment, it reminded me of Astrid and the resemblance was startling at best, chilling at worst. I was unlucky; I could never remember her as being the beautiful, snow-skinned, lithe assassin. All her name conjured up now was charred flesh horrendously arrayed on scorched ground and an overwhelming feeling of being suffocated by betrayal and the mantle of leadership she had laid upon me. I, who had been half-forced into the Dark Brotherhood, who had never really wanted to kill except in self-defense. Spilled blood fed the dragon soul inside me and I never wanted to fall into the trap the dragons had all those eons before.

   “Shadowmere, it is only for awhile. Less than a day’s journey,” I reasoned, edging closer. I made a grab for the reins, only to risk toppling over the dratted beast yanked his head sideways and avoided my hand.

   Stomping on the ground, I resisted the urge to use a Shout on him. “The man is naked and if we leave him here, he’ll be food for beasts.” Shadowmere showed me his teeth before looking over my shoulder at the mound, a devilish gleam in those red eyes. “No, that is not an offer to feed you. You don’t even eat.” 

  The horse snorted contemptuously in response. “I’ll tell Lucian,” I threatened feebly. “I’ll summon him right now and tell him how pig-headed you are being…Oh by Talos, Mara and Arkay, Sithis even!” I swore, kicking the dirt, nails pinching into palms as I curled my hands into angry fists. “Very well, be off with you then! I’ll do it myself.” 

  Turning on my heel, I stalked back to the mound and almost tripped in my furious haste. “Dragonborn savior of the world indeed,” I muttered derisively. Sometimes I think I killed Titus Mede the Second simply because his dumb-as-mules Imperials had torn me out of whatever I had been doing and almost chopped off my head. If they had not done that, I would never have fallen into my fate. I could not remember what I had planned for my life but running all over Skyrim and into every conceivable dungeon and danger probably would not have been ranked very high on that now lost list. 

   Alduin was still out. Unclasping my cloak, I knelt, hands beneath his arms as I pulled him half up to rest against me. For a man who had been lying exposed to the air while his would-be helper quarreled with her horse, he was rather warm. And he had the longest lashes I had ever seen on a man, I realised as I fastened the cloak’s clasp at his throat. “Great Freyja, envy the dragon’s eyelashes, why don’t you?” Delphine and Esbern would not just denounce me; they would, in all likelihood, try to kill me in an effort to erase the disgrace that I was to all Dovahkiin that had been and were to be.

    “Now, how do I move you?” I could not toss him over my shoulder unless I wanted to break it and lose my balance. In the end, I settled for hooking my arms beneath his armpits and dragging him up to the edge of the burial mound. It worked, but there was a clear trail left behind and both man and Nightingale cloak were now dirt-streaked. “Damnation,” I cursed. Brynjolf would be laughing now, shaking his head and murmuring “Lass”, I could just imagine it. If only he had taken my offer and come with me… 

  Pushing out all thoughts of my redheaded second-in-command, I continued dragging Alduin forward. With any luck, we would reach Old Hroldan by the next century. If we were not set upon by brigands, bears, sabretooth cats, Thalmar guards armed with a writ of bounty on my head… There was also the occasional troll and stray witch to consider. And there were no farms nearby for me to ‘borrow’ a horse. “Double damnation.”

   Shadowmere watched as I dragged Alduin past him, keeping off the rough roads and away from stones. The last thing I needed was for him to start bleeding and for me to waste precious Magicka repairing unavoidable and repeated damage.

   Travelling this way was, literally, a pain in the neck. I had to keep looking over my shoulder to watch where we were going and keep an eye out for enemies. “I hope you are happy,” I called out sourly to Shadowmere who followed several paces behind. He could have run two circles around the mountain and found us in the same area. “Some fellow Assassin you are. Astrid told me you were reliable. And there happens to be that little fact about me being the Leader of the Dark Brotherhood.”

   And then I heard it, the sound of fire exploding, and the smell of burning grass assailed my nose. Whipping around, in the distance I saw two figures, one robed in black and the other in tanned leather armour. Oh dear gods, this was the last thing I needed. Crouching low, I scuttled, and rather quickly too since I was dragging a man twice my size along with me, towards Shadowmere. “Get down and let me put him on your back now or that Vigilante will be coming after you as well, you undead equine Assassin,” I hissed as I approached him. Thankfully, good sense and the sense of self-preservation prevailed; he did as I commanded.

   With Alduin slung over Shadowmere in the front, I leaned down, pressing my arms on him, reins wrapped around my hands as Shadowmere headed deeper into the wood at a fast canter. We would have to go off the road and that would cost us a precious hour or two, maybe even three. But anything was better than being caught in a frenzied fight for survival, given my currently unconscious baggage.

   “Thank you, friend.” Shadowmere snorted as I ran an appreciative hand over his dark withers, but it sounded less mocking than before. “We’ll be at the inn before evening and you’ll be rid of him then.” High above, the sun filtered down through the leafy branches and burned the grass where there was little to no shelter. It was probably close to noon. That was a blessing, at least. Night tended to bring out more unsavoury characters, like the vampires. Just thinking about that particular branch of undead was enough to raise the fine hairs on my arms and neck. The sooner we were under a solid roof, the better.

* * *

 

   In all the short time that I had seen him, Leontius was either perched out at the entrance to the inn, resting on the railings and pontificating in the dark. It was either that or chopping wood, which he was doing at the moment I came riding up. Dark brown brows rose and crinkled an already grooved forehead as he noted the man slung in front of me, as well as his bare feet and legs. Forcing a smile of greeting, I dismounted and in a hasty rush to avoid his curious stern gaze, I attempted to pull Alduin off Shadowmere. ‘Big mistake,’ was my last thought before all six feet something of muscle and flesh slipped forward and fell on me. Instinct wrapped my arms around him, trying to cushion him with my body. And then the ground hit my back, driving the air from my lungs as I wheezed in pain. “That hurts,” I croaked. When I opened my eyes, Leontius’ face had blocked out the watery yellow evening sky. 

  “You need some help.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  His expression did not change as he continued staring down at me. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

   Those piercing black eyes left me then and he proceeded to heave Alduin off me. “This man is naked,” he said, consternation and shock erasing his usually stoic mask.

  “Is it that obvious?” I quipped, getting back on my feet and bemoaning the twinge at the base of my spine. Grabbing Alduin’s other arm, I slung it over my shoulder, only to realise Leontius was still staring, perhaps even glaring at me. “Oh no, I did not have anything to do with him being naked.” The Assassin and Thief in me cheered in approval at my bald-faced lie. “It was probably brigands who robbed and left him for dead. I couldn’t very well leave him lying by the road right?”

   Leontius did not look convinced but at least he was helping me drag Alduin towards the inn. “He does not even have a loincloth on.”

  “You know robbers. Scum of the earth with no morals or hygiene.” Eydis looked up angrily when I kicked the door open but her eyes went round with shock when she saw Leontius and I struggling with our unconscious bundle. “What happened to him?”

  “Robbers with no hygiene or morals,” Leontius deadpanned, inclining his head slightly in my direction.

 “Upon Talos’ godhood, I did not strip this man naked or harm him in any way,” I hissed. “Eydis, a room please, if it is available.”

   She showed us to the one that I had previously rented, the one Tiber Septim himself had used. How ironic, I thought, letting Alduin fall on the bed with a loud thump. Here was the bane of the Dovahkiin, rescued by the present incarnation of the latter and sleeping in a bed occupied by the famous one of us all.

   “I’ll see to him.” Leontius turned, managing to edge me away from the bed.

    I did not know which to be more insulted over: that Leontius obviously thought me capable of violating an unconscious man or that he must have thought me so uncomely that this must be the only way I could have a man. Maybe he didn’t fancy blond hair and blue eyes or skin so white it might have been milk, but some men did, I thought furiously. I opened my mouth to scold, and then changed my mind, smiling saucily instead. “Don’t worry Leontius, there will be plenty of time for me to tend to him later. He’ll be well taken care of, all night long.” And with that, I sauntered out. Eydis passed me, a steaming washbasin in her hands with towels draped over her shoulders. She shot me a puzzled look but I was too weary to care.

  “Skuli, some roast beef and mead, if you please.” Sinking down into my chair, I pulled off my cowl and dropped it on the table, soaking in the heat from the roaring hearth and finally feeling the heaviness in my bones. In spite of the Stamina potion, I had tired a lot faster than expected and it probably had to do with that mysterious Shout. I still did not comprehend the words but at least now I knew what it could do. I would have a very unhappy dragon-man on my hands when he awoke. The thought of dealing with him made my head ache and I grimaced, even as Skuli approached, armed with a platter of meat swimming in rich golden gravy, some bread and a bottle of mead.

  “Thank you lad,” I ruffled his red hair affectionately before placing enough septims to cover the food and rent for the next two days.

  “I’ll draw up a bath for you when you have finished. In the other room of course, since you are a right proper lady.” Merry brown eyes twinkled and I wondered how much of my conversation with Leontius he had caught.

   “Guardian of my modesty, I thank thee,” I drawled, affecting an imaginary curtsey. Skuli laughed before disappearing back into the kitchen. Attacking the beef, I ate with relish, using the warm crusty slices of bread to soak up the sauce. After two weeks of badly cooked rabbit and deer—and for one painful day, skeever— this was heaven.

  My lids were weary with the effort to keep my eyes open by the time I was done. Only the thought of hot water and soap kept me awake. Trudging to the room, I saw Skuli had made good on his promise and blessing the boy under my breath, closed the door and stripped off my armour and underclothes. Unfastening my braid, I stepped into the large, shallow basin, no higher than my calves and picking up the first of three large buckets, poured the almost scalding liquid over my head and felt it flow over my skin. It was a renewing experience, the mild scent of the foamy soap as it removed the sweat and grime that quick dips in a freezing stream could not. A small groan escaped my lips as I worked the soap into my hair, massaging my scalp. The past was hidden but every day, I learnt more about myself and I knew that I had been one for creature comforts. Jenassa had thrived in the open while I had learnt to tolerate it. Farkas and Vilkas of the Companions seemed immune to snow while I had indiscriminately exhausted my Magicka by casting healing on myself just to get rid of the shivers that rattled my frame. Farkas had looked amused and Vilkas openly challenged my claim to Nordic heritage. That there was Dragon’s blood in me was almost a joke.

     With a sigh, I stepped out of the basin, soap free and feeling human again. Quickly, I swilled my filthy undergarments in the remaining bucket, washing and wringing them out as best I could before spreading them out on the table to dry. There were some spare clothes in the cupboard and I donned those, one hand combing through damp blonde tangles as I emerged from the room. Skuli shooed away my attempt to help him remove the basin and empty buckets, and since I had to do it anyway, I went to the room where Alduin slept.

  Leontius had disappeared, and Eydis was drawing up the covers to his chin. “Leontius has loaned him some clothing and we managed to get him clean. What happened to him?”

  At least she didn’t believe I was a rapacious villain. “I found him near the Kathspire bluffs. It probably was robbers; Hargravens or the Foresworn would have taken him to use as a sacrifice for some ritual or other.”

   Eydis shuddered, muttering a prayer of protection. “He’s lucky you found him, rather than one of the bird hags. He is very handsome,” she added, looking at me from the corner of one gleaming eye.

  “If you think so, you are welcome to him.”

  A wistful smile touched her lips. “There is only one man I’d welcome, Freyja. I hope he comes back soon.”

  Guilt bit into me, hard and I would have said something but Eydis bid me goodnight and left before I could blink. There would be a way to make this up to her. I would have tracked down her husband but she had not known exactly where he had gone too and by now, I feared the worst. 

  Cautiously, I sat on the edge of the large bed, looking at Alduin. Eydis’ observation came back to haunt me. With full firm lips, a high straight nose and sharp features, he was very pleasing to look upon. “Don’t forget the eyelashes, Freyja,” I snorted, leaning back against the headboard. The soft bed seemed to sing sleep to my very flesh and with a soft curse, I forced myself up and into the chair. I could not afford to let him out of my sight but he was too dangerous to sleep right next to. Shifting the chair closer to the table, I eyed the weapons and armour I had left on it. The room was cozily warm and the armour would make me uncomfortably hot. Still, one needed to take precautions. Reaching out, I took my sword and folded my arms over it before I lay my head down, feeling the twin sensations of the warmth of my own flesh and the eternal chill in the Daedric sheath against my cheek.

  Before I knew it, sleep claimed me and I fell into darkness.

* * *

 

   Caution made for light sleep and after awhile, I realised I was slipping in and out of rest, the consciousness of danger preying on the edges of my mind. When Alduin finally awoke and proceeded to fall out of bed, the sound of his body hitting the floor startled me and sheer instinct caused me to yank the blade halfway free before I realised there was no danger after all.

   Beneath the thick blanket, Alduin was flailing on the floor. The good thing was, it was downright ridiculous, so much so that I would have laughed if I had not been so perplexed. On the other hand, he was making so much noise he would rouse the others. “Stop thrashing about like a mammoth in a shop,” I scolded, keeping my voice low as I pulled the blanket off, tossing it to the bed. And then, I did laugh. Leontius was several sizes smaller than Alduin’s human form and it must have taken much determination for Leontius and Eydis to have squeezed him into the ill fitting shirt and pants.

   He snarled, his head snaking forward like a dragon and I recalled who he was, beneath that flesh and bone. “I’m going to get you back into the bed and then you and I need to talk.”

  That was certainly easier said than done. “Ouch!” Massaging the painful crick in my neck, I glared down at Alduin while batting aside his clumsy attempts to push me away. “I’ve spent half the night sleeping in a chair while you had the bed and I am not in a mood to be trifled with.”

   The last straw came when he almost poked my eye out. Seizing him by the hair, I yanked. He roared with pain, distracted, and I grabbed the opportunity to drag him roughly onto the bed, not bothering that his shoulders slammed against the wooden edge of the frame, so hard I knew it would leave bruises. Hands curled around the front of his tunic, I straddled him, legs pinning his arms to his side when he continued to struggle. “Do not think I won’t hurt you,” I whispered menacingly, my hair spilling down to curtain his face as I leaned forward to eyeball him.

  It was pure misfortune that a sleepy Eydis chose that moment to peek into the room. “I heard some noise. Is everything…” Her words trailed off and for a moment, the two of us stared blankly at each other while Alduin tried to twist around and see who that was. A smile drew across her lips.

  “No, Eydis. It’s not…”

 “Not what I think it is. Aye, Freyja, I know that already. Maybe this is all just a dream. A very pleasant one.” Wicked humour danced in her eyes as she shut the door.

  Dear gods, this must be Mehrunes Dagon’s revenge for my refusal to kill Silus. Dejected, I dropped my head back down and caught sight of the gaping neckline of my shirt. I had forgotten to fasten the ties before sleeping off. No wonder Eydis had jumped to the wrong conclusion. And that meant that moments ago, Alduin had gotten a good look at more than just my eyes and face. Maybe it was not too late to kill Silus and get Dagon off my back.

    Straightening up, I knotted the ties so thoroughly it would take a dagger to release them, still perched atop my nemesis. He wriggled, like a fish and just about as effectively. “You are as uncoordinated as a drunken pirate.” It puzzled me and I wondered if the Shout had other less visible effects. “I’m going to cast a healing spell on you. Let’s see if that works.”

   A stream of nonsense issued from his lips, the words hopelessly slurred, each syllable melding into the other. “And as articulate as a drunken pirate as well,” I muttered as a golden glow suffused the both of us. When a sizeable portion of Magicka drained away, I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Well, how do you feel?”

   More babbling issued from him. Apparently, I was either losing my touch or he was not injured at all. This was a different problem. Rolling off him, I watched as he struggled to back away and pull himself up. It was almost as though he did not know what to do…

  Light dawned and the epiphany broke over me in waves. “You don’t know how to use this body.”

   His mouth opened, closed and with great effort, he spoke. This time, I could make out the words, although he had to repeat some of them and a few were overly drawn out. Too bad the only Dragon words I understood were the enchanted ones carved into walls. “I can’t speak your language except for the Shouts.”

   Contempt seemed to ooze from every pore as he somehow managed to look down at me from his prone position. “At least I’m not flapping about like a newborn,” I snapped. “And you must not speak the Dragon Tongue. It will raise questions and people will kill you if they know who you are.”  Not to mention me, if I tried to stop them. In a fair fight, it was not easy to take me but the idea of standing against Nazir, Delphine or even the Companions nauseated me. These were my allies and friends; they had given me shelter, guidance and a shield from the loneliness that dogged my heels.

* * *

 

 

   “Until you learn how to manage the tongue you have now, a nod or a shake of the head will have to suffice. Can you do that?”   

   Alduin curled his lips contemptuously. At that moment, he despised this prison of flesh that encased his dragon’s soul even more than he did the Dragonborn Nord who stood by the side of the bed.

  A god, reduced to nodding and shaking his head in order to communicate. He would have eaten her soul, a piece at a time if it meant giving her a new perspective of being in hell.

  “Well, can you?” The Dovahkiin, Freyja, as the other human had named her, asked again. He could smell her impatience, sense indecision flutter through her before it vanished. At least his senses had remained intact.

  Spitting out a curse that sounded garbled even to his own ears, Alduin nodded, realizing there was little choice in the matter.

  “Firstly, I will caution you against trying to kill me. Eyes that you cannot see watch me even now and my death would greatly displease her. I have brothers and sisters from whom you cannot hide.”

   It was a naked threat. A low growl rumbled at the base of his throat but he nodded. As he was, even the lowest dregs of the human race could easily finish him off. He knew she was not speaking of a true family, not one related by blood. So the Dovahkiin was allied to some of other Powers. He was not sure whom though; he had had little patience with a race that he felt was made to be ruled, and much of the world had passed him by while he had been locked in Time.

   Eyes like blue ice pierced him, the pupils a true black that seemed to draw in light. If they had been narrower, they would have been the eyes of a Dovah, not some bastardised form created by Akatosh and a slave queen sent to plague his race.

  “As you are, I cannot possibly leave you alone. Neither will I give you the choice of wandering the land and falling into some black fate. You and I, our paths are intertwined, for good or evil. I mean to keep an eye on you for as long as you walk this land.”

   She would never be his keeper; he had no equal amongst his own kind, let alone her species. Instead, he gazed at her, defiance written on his face. Anger flashed across her face and she impatiently ran a hand through those pale golden strands that glinted by the glow of the candles. “There is no choice for you.” She looked away then. “And none for me.”

   He would have taunted her, but for the uncooperative tongue in this oddly shaped mouth. And at that moment, a loud growl erupted from his belly and hunger, burning and strange, licked fiercely at him, clutching at innards he was unfamiliar with. He must have looked astonished, for she smiled then, although the mirth scarcely touched her eyes.

  “Welcome to my world.”

  The words chilled him but he kept his face impassive, watching as she retreated from the room, returning minutes later with a tray. “You can learn to eat with your own hands tomorrow. It’s too late for such a lesson now and I am tired.”

    Once, he thought he would rather have died than deign to accept such a situation. But he had never been subject to the weakness of a human form and the burning in his stomach was beginning to hurt. So, along with the bread and meat, Alduin swallowed his pride as the Dragonborn tore pieces of the food and fed it to him with her own hand. Occasionally, his eyes would flash to her face, looking sharply for hints of smugness or gloating. There was none to be found. Instead, she looked uneasy, embarrassed even. At least he was not suffering alone in his humiliation.

   When he was finished, he insisted on taking the cloth she held, using it awkwardly to wipe his mouth. She disappeared again and this time he noticed the sword she wore on the belt strapped to her hips. His eyes felt heavy and beneath him, the bed was so soft. He was Alduin, World Eater, and such luxuries were useless to him. They felt good to this poor excuse of a body though. His eyes snapped open when the door swung with a light squeak. The Dovahkiin shut it and took a seat at the chair.

  “Sleep. We both have a long day ahead of us.” With that, she blew out the candles and in the darkness, they both watched each other with suspicion until he could no longer hold off fatigue and to his further humiliation, he slept first. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness... Not to complain but there's a lot of editing to do here; I'll be the first to say it's me and NOT AO3. Anyway, all 31 chapters of "Dragonrend" are posted at fanfiction.net. I thought I might post the stuff here, but I think updates will be super slow. So, if you like these three chapters well enough, you can head down to ff.net and check the rest of it out. :)

There were many things in my life that I sincerely hoped would stay in the dark box of memory and never see the light of day again. Things which haunted me, which made my insides roil with shame when they burst out of my thoughts. A man standing in the bright sunshine, admiring the sapphire of the running river, while I crept up from behind like the malevolent shadow I was. An old woman whom I struck down in the safety of a fortress for committing a deed that still remained unknown to me. A radiant young woman with enough grace to waive a spice wine tariff, whose white dress was stained red with my sin while her shocked husband less than ten feet away.

    The Dark Brotherhood had made me stronger, taught me skills and given me powers that would have been otherwise out of reach. It had brought Shadowmere, often my only source of comfort and company. I paid for these in ways I had anticipated but never fully understood until everything was said, done and too late to take back. 

   This morning, however, all these deeds seemed to pale in comparison with what I had just been through. It seemed as though I had barely dropped back into sleep when Alduin promptly woke me up again by hurling a book on the bedside table in my general direction. He missed, of course, and the book didn’t get very far either, but he accomplished what he set out to do.

   “Not even one day together and you’ve already started throwing objects at me,” I muttered, swiping a hand over sleep-sticky eyes as I approached him. “We have the makings of a beautiful friendship. What do you want?”

   The immediate reply I received was hopelessly garbled and Alduin looked momentarily enraged with himself. Then, he proceeded to grab my arm. Using me as a support, he stood up, clutching me with a strength that was impressive, frightening even because I was dwarfed by his size. He thought for a few seconds, fine black brows drawn together in a slash until those amber eyes lit up and with great care, he spoke again. “…Need privacy…now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Privacy,” he growled again. From the look on his face, he probably would have said a lot more—and I was guessing some of it would have been invective directed at me—but speaking was too much of an effort at the moment and he contented himself with a glare that did just as well at telling me that I was a fool.

  “You want me to leave the room?”

 In his exasperation, he actually shook me. It helped jar my comatose brain awake and I finally realised what he meant. Like all humans, Alduin had to answer nature’s call. “Damnation and Sithis.”

   Where was Leontius when I actually wanted him around? Slipping an arm around his waist, and using my other hand to drag his arm across my shoulder, we half-stumbled towards the back of the inn, where the common privy was located.

  Shoving the door open, I pushed him in. To my great shock, he pulled me in as well. “I can’t be in here with you,” I yelped, swatting insistent hands away even as he swayed against me.

  His response was to snarl and even though he now had a human tongue, he managed to sound remarkably like the dragon he truly was. And then he took my hand, and put it on the laces of his breeches, amongst other things. If mortification could kill, I would have gone up in flames along with half the inn. “What in Oblivion!” I half-screeched, trying to jerk away. “Are you mad or just sick?”

  “Untie, now.”

  Oh, that explained everything. He wasn’t being perverted; I was just dense. “You could have simply asked,” I muttered darkly, tugging at the laces while trying valiantly to pretend that this was not happening. “You do know what to do right?” He gave me a withering look, which indicated otherwise. “Who am I kidding? Some men born with this anatomy still don’t know what to do after decades or centuries of living, if the condition of most privies at the inns is anything to go by. I certainly doubt women could cause the sanitation problem. It can’t be the children either because children in towns just do not go to the inns for such purposes…”

  And while I ran on with my interminable monologue about how men were the root of all sanitation evils in Skyrim, I managed to instruct Alduin on the finer points of how exactly a man should use the privy without making a mess. And all this with my eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. There ought to have been a trophy or reward for such…trials. When he was finally done, I had to lace up his pants again and by the time we returned to the room, we were unable to look at each other, probably for different reasons. That, and I wanted to wash my hands although I had just done so. Blood wouldn’t come off but maybe this experience would if I worked at it long enough.

   By now, I was sure it was not just Mehrunes Dagon plotting against me; Namira had to be in on it as well. That was what one got for defying the Daedric Princes. So much for being the champion of Azura and a Nightingale of Nocturnal if they could not stop their counterparts from damning me with humiliating situations. Because here I was, about to fall head first into yet another one, and on the same morning too.

   ‘Talos give me strength,’ I beseeched, pacing the floor in a tight circle as I tried to ignore Alduin, whom I had deposited on the bed again. Dragons I could kill, Hargravens I would gladly take on, dungeons were bearable because come hell or high water, I was getting out, even if it was only to die out in the sun, under the open sky. Giving a lecture on the human anatomy was not my forte and ought to have been the domain of mothers with small children. I was nowhere fit enough to be a mother because my cooking alone might kill them, if my woeful lack of housekeeping skills did not. And Alduin was not my idea of a child. Maybe the Night Mother would have taken to him but I fully intended to keep them as far apart as possible. She would just have to make do with Sithis since she had gotten rid of her offspring.

   Stopping abruptly, I sat down, because I doubted I could get through the talk otherwise. “Alright, the human body is not that much different from a dragon’s. At least, I think it isn’t. There are some things you need to know before they actually happen so please listen carefully because I am not going to repeat myself. Unless you require a clearer and more in depth explanation and no, I do not give demonstrations of any kind…”

* * *

 

   He had heard the cry of the accursed Greybeards that day. The lands had echoed with their voices. It was a thunder that shook the air and truth be told, it had shaken him as well. His defeat at the hands of Paarthurnax’s disciples still rankled so deeply he felt it in his bones and if not for the Elder Scroll, he might have bested them. ‘Or not,’ an insidious thought whispered and try as he might, he could not set it aside.

_Joor. Zah. Frul._

   They had created that, twisted the ancient language of the Dovah to suit their needs, turned it against the ones who had breathed it into life. Alduin would always remember the first time he experienced the curse of mortality. It had lashed him to the core of his soul, threatening to sunder it as death, not by the blade but by fading, by the weakening and wasting of skin, muscle and flesh, touched him. Along with it, a host of fears, all incomprehensible, had flooded him, caused his wings to falter, brought him to the ground to shake in horror at that which he was never meant to know.

  And now he was here, clothed in the raiment of human flesh, vulnerable to a myriad human failings and limitations. There would be no end to humiliation from here on until he could undo her accursed Shout. To relieve himself he had required her assistance, the clumsy human fingers unable to undo the cumbersome clothing forced on him. If one could have perished of shame, Alduin would have done so that hour.

   All because of her. He watched as she paced the ground relentlessly, face taut with nervousness, hands clasped behind her back. Not for the first time did Alduin think how wonderful killing her would be, but logic prevailed. He needed her to survive in this weakened state, and he needed her to undo this Shout. He could not very well Shout at himself and as a dragon, he had not been able to learn the twisted Thu’um spawned by her kind. Alduin was not going to take any chances. He needed this Dragonborn alive.

   When she finally stopped, her face was flushed and she was biting slightly on her lower lip, a habit she was oblivious to. How unlike Gormlaith Golden-Hilt she was. The only things they had in common were their Nord heritage. Even their hair was different. Gormlaith wore hers short and sensibly, like a true warrior. She had been taller and larger than this… milksop. A vain milksop, Alduin decided, for only vanity could have caused the woman to keep her hair to a length where it touched her waist. And no wonder she favoured leather armour; she might have collapsed if she wore a full suit of steel. How on earth had this…creature killed Mirmulnir and Sahloknir, two of his great lieutenants? Mirmulnir, especially, had been powerful and wily enough to survive the cursed Blades, those self-appointed Dragon Slayers.

   ‘You forget, she faced you on the burial mound,’ the insidious voice whispered again. Yes, it had been a death rush, meant to crush her into the earth and she had known it. Yet, there had been no fear. There had been a light in those eyes, clear and terrible. He thought she would have put a sword through his heart, or cut off his head. Instead, she had nourished and assisted him at a time when it would have been infinitely easier to kill him.

   She was a fool, Alduin decided. But she confused him as well because he did not know what it was she wanted from this. ‘Maybe it is to enjoy watching you humiliated,’ he thought, and then realised that her fair skin had turned even redder when she began speaking. ‘Perhaps not,’ he revised his earlier speculation. If anyone felt embarrassed, it was the human. The emotion was emanating from her in waves.

    “Alright, the human body is not that much different from a dragon’s. At least, I think it isn’t. There are some things you need to know before they actually happen so please listen carefully because I am not going to repeat myself. Unless you require a clearer and more in depth explanation and no, I do not give demonstrations of any kind…”

  Was she actually…lecturing him? Nobody, not even Akatosh had ever taken that tone with him. This being who had not even seen a fraction of the summers he had lived through, who had the temerity to inform him of the facts of life, as she put it…

  “Are you listening to me?” Her torrent of words, which of course had not entered his ears at all, finally ceased when she realised he was not paying attention. If she had lectured before, she was scolding now.

  Alduin narrowed his eyes.

  “Because if you don’t, I am not taking you to the privy again, especially when your belly starts to hurt and not because you are hungry either.”

    There was no word in her language for what he wanted to call her. He had just realised that when she ran a hand over her face and exhaled loudly. “I know you are fantasising about the many ways in which you would love to kill me but right now, if you are going to become independent, you need to know some things. Such as walking without having your tail as a counterweight. You tend to lean forward instead of balancing on your feet.” 

 Ah, so that was the problem. Not that he would not have worked it out for himself of course, Alduin reasoned. His present situation was overwhelming and he only needed time to adjust.

  “Come, let’s try getting you on your feet first.”

  She could move rather quickly when she wanted to, he realised. Before he could stop her, she was grasping his hands and urging him to stand. Her palms were warm against his and he could feel the rough calluses on her skin, feel her pulse where his fingers brushed over her wrist. How sensitive human skin was, how soft and thin. No wonder they bruised so easily; they felt everything and now he did too.

  “There,” the Dragonborn smiled, looking absurdly pleased when he finally managed to stand without wobbling. “Feet flat on the ground and keep your legs straight.” When she started to step away, his hold on her hands tightened reflexively. “Don’t worry, just take a step in my direction. Slowly,” she coaxed, to his immense irritation. He was not a hatchling and she was certainly not his mother. If she had been, he would never have come out of the shell.

   Walking, Alduin discovered, was a long and awkward process. His wings were bitterly missed, especially when the Dragonborn had to repeatedly catch him or hold him up. He felt crippled, disabled and immensely upset.

   Roughly untangling his hands from hers, he indicated that she should stand next to him. She looked uncertain but acquiesced, jumping slightly when he threw a heavy arm over her shoulders and pulled her up against his side. Beneath his hand, her hair felt like the green grass of meadows at the height of spring, just silkier. “Better,” he pronounced. This way, both of them were a lot less likely to fall when he stumbled.

  “That really depends on whose opinion you’re asking for. But go ahead, feel free to use me as your prop.”

   Several circles around the room and a few loose strands of blonde hair later, Alduin was able to keep his balance relatively well. He still needed to hold on to something, and that something, he decided, was going to be her.

   “You had better learn to walk by yourself soon because going bald is too much of a sacrifice,” the Dragonborn grumbled, rubbing her scalp. “Did you have to grab that hard just because you tripped?”

  He simply smirked at her. This was her doing and it was only right that she pay some form of penance.

* * *

 

    Leontius was going to be very angry, I thought in resignation as I gazed at the gravy-splattered mess that had once been a shirt. Empowered by the morning’s relative success, Alduin had insisted on learning to feed himself. Unfortunately, his eye-hand coordination needed a lot more practice. Years of practice, I corrected, trying not to wince as he proceeded to lick his fingers, almost cat-like in his mannerisms. Maybe that was how dragons cleaned their talons after feasting on a kill.

  Jumping in, I shoved a cloth in his direction. “Humans do not lick; we wipe.” That might be true only of the more enlightened of the species but if he was going to be travelling with me, he was going to be clean, not covered in his own saliva. “Or, better yet. We wash and then wipe.” Water sloshed over the rim as I pushed aside his breakfast tray and made him rinse his hands in the basin after soaping. Naturally, Alduin would squeeze the soap and it would fly halfway across the room and end up under the bed.

  “Why me? Why?” I muttered, on my hands and knees, my head and shoulders squeezed beneath the bed as I felt around for the soap. When I finally retrieved it, I looked up and saw him turn quickly away. ‘Oh no, you were not staring at my…’ The thought was ludicrous. He was a dragon in a body that he barely knew. Surely… ‘No Freyja, he was not leering. He was not.’ That made me feel better, so I privately declared it as the truth. If Alduin was going to leer at anything, it might be female Argonians, not the Dovahkiin whom he was destined to battle to the death with.

   The sound of ripping cloth, a shirt to be precise, interrupted my ruminations. “By the Nine Divines, did you really have to tear it off?” Even to my own ears I sounded whiny.

  “It itched.”

  It had taken him a few minutes and I could see his mouth moving slightly, trying out the words. When he finally spoke though, it was surprisingly clear.

 “Next, you’ll be telling me the pants itch as well.”

  “They do.”

 Brynjolf always said my big mouth would get me into trouble. “I don’t want to see you naked again!” Oh dear, I had not planned on blurting that out. “If you take off your clothes, I’ll leave you in the stable with Shadowmere.”

  He sniffed disdainfully at me and then looked speculatively at the basin of water and the dripping soap in my hand. “A bath.”

  “You can barely stand by yourself and you want a bath? Eydis does not have a tub for me to put you in. You’ll have to stand in the centre of a large shallow basin and wash yourself without falling over or making a mess.”

  Alduin sat patiently through my rant, or maybe he simply stopped listening until the sound of my voice ceased. Then, he gave me a look and suddenly I knew exactly what was on his mind. “No, not even if Nocturnal herself ordered me to do it,” I snapped. My face was so hot I was sure the roots of my hair were sizzling on my scalp. “The only person I’ve ever bathed is myself and I intend to keep it that way.” That much was true, to the best of my post-almost-execution experience in Skyrim.

   I would educate him on the finer points of interaction between men and women next time. For one thing, men did not make women touch them in unmentionable areas, at least not without getting permission. Secondly, people did not just strip off and get naked in front of semi-strangers. Thirdly, he might have been flying around Skyrim in nothing but scales for millenia but as a human, there was something called Modesty. Now, however, was the time for another course of action.

   “Skuli!” I escaped through the doorway and slammed it shut on Alduin’s loud protests, mostly snarls. “I need a bath drawn up now. Is Leontius outside?”

  “Chopping wood,” he replied. “You know, the walls are quite thin. You really don’t want to be shouting out about being naked with him again. Stuff like that might make Leontius uncomfortable.”

  “That is not what I said!”

 “If you say so, Freyja,” he replied before disappearing.

  Like mother, like son. I almost yanked the main door off its hinges. Leontius’ face was already an iron mask of disapproval and I wondered if Skuli was right about the walls and what distorted version of the truth Leontius had heard. “I need your help. The man injured his head when he was attacked and he doesn’t remember much, nor can he move very well at all.”

  The sound of iron splitting wood never stopped even for a moment.

“He wants to bathe and needs assistance.”

 “No.”

 “Alright, I’ll ask Eydis then.”

  Leontius glared at me and at that moment, I would have bet the Right Eye of the Falmer that he was envisioning burying his axe in my skull. Without a word, he dropped it, rolled up his sleeves and stalked into the inn.

   It was earlier than I expected. The sky was a sea of mixed blue; dawn’s fingers had begun painting the East with light. Outside here, it was serene, so quiet that I could sense the fox and her cub skulking around the thickets. And then it happened, the sound I had been waiting for. Alduin howled with indignation.

  I smiled. The day had just gotten better.


End file.
